On ‘Come Home’, Pip Blom’s acerbic subs will hit you sideways

21-year-old Amsterdam artist PIP BLOM (which is also the name of her three-piece backing band) has shared ‘Come Home’, the second single lifted from her upcoming EP, Paycheck, which is due to arrive next Friday, October 5th. As with previous single, ‘Pussycat’, ‘Come Home’ is laden with an acerbic attitude and biting wit folded within a cocoon of classic post-punk and college radio indie rock.

‘Come Home’ opens with a discordant, detuned guitar riff falling in and out of pitch as if it’s barely holding it together. Focused, hypnotic and taut, Pip Blom use the tension of this riff as the backbone of ‘Come Home’, building in intensity as it loops throughout the track, executed with the precision of a band possessed by purpose.

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Deadpan and stripped of any ornament, Blom’s sneering vocals enter the fray, landing with a cold thud as she affirms her defiance: “Say my name if you think it’s over / You aren’t everything at once / You think you’re, you’re incisive / I wish I had had enough”. The whole track seethes with a sense of determination and a subtle, smouldering ferocity. It feels like watching the awkward, subliminal power plays between two ex-lovers who have merely agreed to tolerate and be civil to one another while slowly being driven crazy by the fact. You can feel that there’s a fuller history there, a bigger story attached to every movement and word, but you’re not privy to that information. Save for a few breaks and pauses, the song continues to unfurl basically uninterrupted in these repetitive patterns, skittering, shuffling drums and a bass line that encircles the taut guitars bringing this tension into full focus with a nervous energy.

Blom drops another lyrical thud during the track’s biting chorus: “You’re waiting, staring at your telephone / You think that I’m the one to call home / You’re wasting more than you could ever know / You wish that I am the one to come home”. Her contempt/indifference is hidden just below the surface, and her subliminal punches are made all the more incisive and cutting for hitting you at a sideways angle rather than straight in the face. It almost feels like these verbal punches are yet another repetitive pattern that Blom’s been turning over and over in her head, working out which pressure points to hit, which strings to tug on to make the whole facade come crumbling down.